


And afterwards.

by RamIsAway



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Afterlife, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anyways, Brotherly Affection, Crying, Death, Dream fuckin kills Tubbo, Fuck Dream yk, Gen, Ghost Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Ghost Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Past Child Abuse, Protective Wilbur Soot, Sad Toby Smith | Tubbo, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Has PTSD, Toby Smith | Tubbo Has a Bad Time, Toby Smith | Tubbo Misses TommyInnit, TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, ahem, idk what to tag this man, no beta we die like Tubbo at the festival, sbi + Tubbo r a family except Techno who is just Phil's friend but like family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamIsAway/pseuds/RamIsAway
Summary: Wilbur is not a compassionate man. Spirit.Whatever.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & TommyInnit, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 22
Kudos: 172





	1. death

Wilbur is not a compassionate man. Spirit. Whatever, the point is, he hasn't been in a long while, not since his country was pried from his fingers by the very man who who sits across from him, cigarette ash on his hands and whiskey on his breath, but when a small boy materializes in their section of the train, shaking and sobbing from the pain, clutching his chest, curled up on the floor, Wilbur feels something in him shift.

"What the fuck is this shit? why is there a crying child in my goddamn train car?" Schlatt huffs, voice loud, heavy and slightly slurred, and he swirls around whatever alcohol he has in a bottle, Wilbur has no fucking how the man gets that shit in the Afterlife. Tubbo flinches at the slightly intoxicated mans voice, making himself smaller seemingly out of habit as tremors wrack his body.

Wilbur barely spares the horned man a glance, pushing himself to his feet and crouching besides his younger, much smaller brother. Tubbo was always so small, ever since Phil found him on the side of the road in a box and took him home. He places a cold hand on the boys shoulder.

Tubbo gasps, softly, eyes flickering open. There's confusion and hurt in those blue eyes, filled and spilling over with tears. "Wilbur?.." He croaks out, somehow managing to tense and relax all at the same time. From his right shoulder down diagonally his shirt is ripped, as is the skin underneath, exposing white nothingness, much like Wilbur's own life ending wound, although his was noticably smaller.

"Hey there," Maybe once, before he went off his fucking rocker, he would have been better at.. all this. Being dead certainly didn't put him back to how he was pre-JSchlatt, especially with the asshole sitting across him for all eternity, but with the peace he was better, although he could certainly say with confidence that he was still a grade A asshole. "I was expecting a child, but certainly not you."

Tubbo sniffles, hand clenching and unclenching the unmangled part of his shirt. "Wha.."

"I thought it would be Tommy here, not you." Wilbur continues. Tommy was reckless, prone to injury, an impulsive little shithead who got himself into, ore trouble than he could take, Tubbo however, was more careful, smart, calculated, kind. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

Tubbo blinks slowly, shifting, face twisting up. "We fought Dream for the discs, me and Tommy, I mean," Wilbur had already figured it was the two of them. "Dream.. Dream threatened my life for the discs, Tommy chose me and Dream brought us to this.. u-underground base of sorts I-I guess, it was filled with things like the real discs, Sapnap's fish Beckerson, Henry, Friend.." Wilbur almost snorted, he had briefly forgotten the fool parading around with his face named a fucking blue wooled sheep Friend.

Tubbo swallows. "Dream wasn't going to let us out, we had nothing, no armor, no anything, he.. he said he was going to put Tommy in prison and kill me, because I was what Tommy cared about," Tubbo laughs dryly, and Wilbur does not think he'll ever stop hating that man. "He certainly did one of those things, it.. It hurt so bad, Wil, still does, I was bleeding out in Tommy's arms, and then Punz came with everyone else. Obviously it was far too late for me, I died slowly, Tommy wouldn't stop crying."

Wilbur feels a tug of sympathy, glad that Phil had the decency to make his own death quick. "It never really stops hurting," Wilbur offers, unsure of what else he can say. "But you get used to it."

Tubbo shoots him a small look, pushing himself up so that he's sitting, despite the tears still slipping down his face. "And.. And you keep.. this?" He gestures vaguely at his shredded chest.

Wilbur nods. He has a whole in his chest and tear stains forever on his face, knuckles red from punching walls. Schlatt has a visible cartoon heart on his chest at all times, alcohol always on his breath even on the off chance that he doesn't drink, always, always hungover. The Afterlife is not particularily kind, but, at least it is peaceful.

Tubbo sighs, looking around the train car, blatantly ignoring Schlatt as he blatantly ignores them. "I'm guessing this is the Afterlife?" He whispers, there's still an occasional tear slipping down his face, not quite crying, and Wilbur wonders if that'll be another thing that Tubbo will keep forever, if his baby brother will be eternally watery doe eyed and crying. Curse Dream for killing his brother and bringing back feelings he had so gladly avoided whilst being dead.

"Yes. Not the most interesting of things, horrifically boring, I will tell you that, but peaceful, that's a plus," He pauses for a moment, cosidering. "Unless that asshole," He jabs a thumb at Schlatt, "Decides to start talking your goddamn ear off about fucking protein powder and jerking off."

"Hey," Schlatt snaps. "Shut up, are we going to have this little prick stuck here forever? You both are talking _my_ goddamn ears off, specially him, his voice fucking pisses me off, making my fucking headache worse, damn."

Tubbo shrinks in on himself again, and Wilbur's lip curls. "Hey, it's not my fault you decided to drink yourself half to death and then have a heart attack and fucking die in my van." He sneers, helping Tubbo off the floor and ushering him to the seats after his legs wobble.

Schlatt throws his head back and groans, taking a large swig of whatever the hell alchohol he has, and doesn't respond further.

Tubbo leans into Wilbur's side once they're both sitting down, which is, admitedly, a little surprising, considering everything Wilbur did when he was alive, but after a moment he loops an arm around his brother. "So.." Tubbo starts slowly, "Why are you here, and Ghostbur is in the r- um, l-living world?"

"To be honest with you, I'm not fully sure, I know it has something to do with having unfinished business, but I don't know what that fool is, or what'll happen once that business is finished." Wilbur would certainly like to be done with whatever business has left, but he feels, somewhere deep inside, that it won't be for a long while. 

Tubbo nods a little, and doesn't ask anything more, just relaxes and closes his eyes.

With peace restored, Wilbur relaxes as well, and shortly after he does so, starts to feel like he's almost.. fading, you could say.

What the fuck.


	2. warmth

Wilbur has no fucking idea what's happening.

One moment he was sitting with Tubbo in the peace and quiet, next he was in the living world, standing in front of that dumb little bench. On top of it, Tommy is perched, knees pulled up to his chest, eyes red and puffy, coated in blood that is very obviously not his own. Fuck. Shit. Why does Wilbur have to deal with crying children?

He presses his lips together, noting idly that Tommy is staring straight through him, the melody, if you could call it that, of Mellohi fills the empty space.

A deep breath. "Tommy."

A gasp, red rimmed eyes widden, he gets up quickly, slapping a hand over the top of the juxebox seemingly on instict. "Ghostbur?" His voice is tight amd raspy, careful and uncertain and very much not TommyInnit. 

Wilbur chuckles, shaking his head despite knowing Tommy cannot see. "I'm not Ghostbur." He sighs, heavily. How does one have a conversation with ones younger brother about their other brother dying? While also being dead. Ugh. "You got the discs back."

Tommy blinks, confusion obvious on his puffy face. "Yeah." He says hollowly. "But I don't have anyone to listen to them with." He's fighting back tears, Wilbur can tell. His fists are clenching and unclenching. "Tubbo is dead."

"I know." Wilbur says solemly, thinking back to.. not even that long ago, the smell of alcohol and a crying child. Gods, its nice to not be constantly smelling alcohol. "He's with me in the Afterlife."

Tommy's eyes, somehow, widen more, his head is tilted up to the sky. "Is he okay?" He rushes, voice wet. "I-I mean, I know he's fucking dead but.. How is he?" Gods, Wilbur does not know how Tommy will live without Tubbo, it already seems like the teen is falling apart.

"He misses you," Wilbur is suprised by how soft his voice comes out at the sight of a lone tear slipping down his youngest brothers cheek. Ugh. Fuck Dream. "But, all things considered, he's not doing as bad as he could be, having just died and all."

Tommy nods, once, looking slightly relieved at the information. "Yeah, yeah okay. Can.. Can you tell him that I'm sorry, and I miss him, and I love him and will never forget him?"

Wilbur sighs, long and suffering, but locks those words away in his brain to relay to Tubbo once he see's him again. If. He still has no clue what the fuck is going on. "Sure." He wants that heartbreaking, hesitant tone out of Tommy's voice, it damn well doesn't belong there.

"Good, g-good. Um, thanks." Tommy slowly slips back onto the bench, eyes lingering on the jukebox. "So uh.. if you're here where's Ghostbur?"

Wilbur chuckles again. "I don't know, I don't know where that crazy son-of-a-bitch has gone." Tommy gives him a slight look, it sems like his brother has gotten attachted to, and maybe prefers the foolish ghost. Whatever, it doesn't hurt.

Tommy sighs, shoulders slumping. "Okay," He says slowly, rubbing his arms. "Just- Just look after Tubbo for me, okay? Please."

Wilbur swallows around the nonexistant lump in his throat. "I was planning to." And it's the truth. Some part of him, a small part, wishes it wasn't, wishes he could not feel the swell of protectiveness he feels for his smallest brother, but the other part, that remembers him getting blown up in color, remembers him crying and in pain more times than he can count, wants to hold tight to the feeling and never let go.

Tommy nods, seeming, again, relieved at the information. "Good," He says. "Clingy bitch'll be so upset without me, beeds someone with him, ya know?" He looks like he's about to start crying for real, clenched fists shaking, eyes wet.

"So will you. For the love of God Tommy, try to spend time with more people, okay? Like that Ranboo kid, or God, try talking to Phil or even fucking Eret, just don't close off, okay? Please, for Tubbo?" He doesn't want Tommy to fade.

"..I'm not talking to Phil," Tommy says sharply, scrubbing at his red rimmed eyes. "..But Ranboo is my friend." Wilbur feels satisfied enough with that answer. "Is.. Is there anyone else there with you? In the Afterlife, I mean."

"Just JSchlatt and Tubbo." Wilbur sighs. Tommy's face flashes with dissapointment, and then his expression goes sour, he doesn't say anything more.

Wilbur's starting to feel like he's fading again. "I'm proud of you, Tommy."

The teen gives the sky an odd look. "Even after.." He trails off, tears slipping down red cheeks. He looks so un-Tommy like, Wilbur wishes he had a time machine and could bring him and Tubbo back to before even the first L'Manburg war.

"Yes, Tommy, Tubbo's death wasn't your fault, none of this was." A deep breath. "I have to go. Tubbo loves you, I'm proud of you."

A million different emotions flash across Tommy's face, then realization. His mouth opens, but Wilbur's world has gone peacefully dark. It stays that way for a few seconds, and then he's stumbling, back in the train car, back with the strong smell of alcohol.

He feels dizzy, the pain in his abdomen is back, and the first thing he hears is crying.

Hands fists his shirt and then theres Tubbo, blubbering and crying, red faced while Schlatt shouts in the background. "Wilbur!" The small boy wails, tears rolling down his face. He's shaking Wilbur notes. "What happened? You- you just disapeared, a-and I was so scared, I thought I-I was gonna be stuck here with only h-him." He let's go of Wilbur's shirt with one hand and makes a wild, shaking gesture at Schlatt.

"Hey, it's not like I enjoy your company either, kid." The ram hybrid huffs. There's an empty bottle in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. He's slumped in his seat, face flushed. "So just shut your fucking mouth, I'm tired of listening to your crying."

Tubbo's mouth shuts with an audible click, he leans his head against Wilbur and hunches in on himself, again, making himself as small as he can manage, and Wilbur, not for the first time and certainly not the last, he wishes he wasn't sharing a section in the Afterlife with J-fucking-Schlatt.

He gives the man the best glare he can muster, he still feels horribly disoriented. He guides Tubbo back to the seats opposite from Schlatt, letting his younger brother curl into his side. "I'll tell you what happened in a bit, okay? Just get some rest now, you look like you need it." 

Tubbo doesn't argue just send a brief, wary glance at Schlatt, and then one up at Wilbur. Whatever he was looking for he seems to have found, because he snuggles into his brothers side, and it isn't long before he goes softly still.

Wilbur has a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HDAJBVWJ ELLO! unfortunately we get no brother tommy-wilbur fights today, wilby is being surpisingly soft, and i hope nothing feels too out of character.
> 
> Tubbo :[
> 
> thank you for stickin around thus far, means a lot! m puttin a lotta effort into this and it's been fun to write so far!!! 
> 
> spare comments :]?


	3. reluctance

Tommy is still sitting on the bench when a clawed three fingered hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and if he jumps a foot high into the air, that's between him and Ranboo.

"Sorry!" The ender-something hyrpbrid apologises quickly, hand leaving as fast as it came. "I'm sorry, I just needed to talk to you." Ranboo comes around to the front of the bench. He's wringing his hands nervously, holding them close to his chest, twin tails swaying awkwardly, hooved foot tapping. "Can I sit?" He asks softly.

Tommy presses his lips together. It feels wrong, the thought of sitting on the bench with someone else, listening to the discs, while Tubbo is dead. It feels like it would be replacing him, so he nods, slowly, but gets up himself, removing Mellohi from the jukebox and slipping it back into his enderchest. He sits on top of the jukebox and Ranboo sits in the bench.

"So, Tommy.." He starts slowly, uncertainly. He looks tired, and Tommy remembers how hard he tried to help Tubbo. He remembers crying on the floor when everyone arrived, hunched over his dying brother. He remembers who crowded around to help, Ranboo, Sam, Niki, Jack, Bad. Ranboo had cried. "Phil doesn't know yet."

Tommy tenses at his adoptive fathers name. "Ranboo-" "I think you should tell him." The other teen cuts him off, staring down at the grass. "He needs to know what happened."

"Why can't you tell him?" Tommy snaps. He holds onto that anger, draws it out, pushes the sadness to the back of his mind and focuses on the anger. He'd rather be angry than sad.

"Because I don't feel like that's my place, you're his son, Tommy, his only son left. Please." Ranboo, briefly, allows his gaze to flicker up to meet Tommy's. It was short, but meant a lot nonetheless. "Please, the two of you need to figure out what you're going to do, like a funeral or something."

He's talking about it like Dream can't bring Tubbo back to life, and maybe he's right to do so, maybe Dream is a fraud. Tommy swallows around the lump in his throat. "Fine."

Ranboo seems relieved at that, standing with those abnormaly long, deer like legs. Tommy hops off the jukebox, still holding that anger in a vice grip. Ranboo leads him to Techno's house, not that Tommy needs any leading. The walk is quiet and awkward.

It's cold. Tommy wonders if it's cold in the Afterlife.

Ranboo ushers him inside, shutting the door behind them with a forked tail. "Phil!" He shouts, scribbling something down in his memory journal. Phil comes up the ladder, smiling plesantly, but that expression quickly drops when he see's Tommy. 

"Ranboo-" He sputters, wings puffing up. Tommy has a multitude of funny memories, and some not so funny ones, involving puffed up wings. "Ranboo, why did you bring him here?"

Ranboo's hand is placed on Tommy's back. "He has something to tell you."

Phil pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs deeply. "Okay, okay fine, but we're going outside incase Techno comes back, by the way, you are so lucky he isn't home right now, Ran. Stay here a moment." He disappears back under the main part of the house, and comes up with two fluffy jackets. He shoves one, the brown one, in Ranboo's arms. "You need to start wearing this, mate, it's cold here."

"But it's hot in the nether.." Ranboo grumbles, but slips it on nonetheless. It's too small, it's almost like a crop-top on him, and the sleeves go barely past his elbows. Phil hands Tommy the red one.

It's his, or it used to be, at least. He puts it on, it feels familiar, comforting. The only thing he kept from his time with Technoblade was the king's robe, which is now stuffed in a chest, hidden from sight, along with all the undisirable feelings that came with it.

Phil leads them outside and a little ways away, snow crunching under their feet, or, in Ranboo's case, hooves. "Come on now, mate." Phil says, wings close to his body. 

"It's bad news," Tommy says slowly, stomach churning. He doesn't want to do this. "You might want to sit down." 

Phil's eyes narrow, he sighs. "There's snow everywhere, Toms, there's no where to sit." He says, his tone is soft, and yet sharp, and Tommy thinks it may have given him whiplash. "Quit stalling, please, it's cold."

'You live here!' Tommy wants to bite back, but keeps his mouth shut, he shouldn't be starting more problems. "I.." He hesitates, throat clogging up. Logically, he knows it's stupid, hell, he already admited it to sky Wilbur when he briefly became fucking God or whatever, but something about admiting Tubbo's fall to their father seems.. finalizing. Permanet. Ranboo's hand comes to rest gently on his back again, a small, but comforting gesture.

Tommy thinks he's going to start crying again. "Tubbo is dead."

Phil's eyes go wide, and another moment is added to the unhappy-puffed-up-wings memories. "He's- He's what? How?" Phil looks like he may start crying himself. Tommy laughs bitterly, latching onto that anger again. He needs it, he can't be weak.

"So you care now?" He barks, voice unsteady. "So now it matters, even though he could have easily died to you when you blew up his fucking country? When he could have died a multitude of times to your best friend fucking Technoblade? Who you chose over your fucking kids?"

Phil's eyes narrow again. "Tommy-" "No, no no, I'm talking you listen." He jabs a finger into the mans chest. Phil looks devastated. Hold onto the anger, don't let go, don't let go. "Dream fucking murdered him in front of me because I loved, nonono, because I love him, because Dream fucking manipulated and tortured us, he hunted us and toyed with us and then decided he was bored of Tubbo so he threw him away, and you know what?"

He's shaking, he knows. He tells himself it's because of the cold. "You could have prevented it, you know? All of it. If you had fucking stuck around to help Tubbo with presidency, he trusted you, he needed you, he made a spot in his goddamn cabinet for you, he asked for your help,"

"Tommy-" Ranboo. He steamrolls over him.

"What about if you helped Wilbur, instead of swooping in at the last possible second to /kill/ him? If you came earlier and at least fucking tried, he needed you!" He's so angry, he's not going to let it go.

He's not cold anymore.

"Or, or, or! What if you didn't let me and Tubbo go running off on our own at thir-fucking-teen?" He snarls, chest heaving. Don't let go, don't let go. "What about if you just acted like our fucking dad? If you loved us like you're supposed to do?"

Phil's eyes are wide with shock and hurt. Ranboo's hand is on Tommy's quivering shoulder. "Tommy.." They say, almost in unison.

Don't let go. He roughly shrugs off Ranboo's hand. "No," He growls, stepping back and pulling off the jacket in a sharp, angry movement. "Don't talk to me, I'm leaving, I hope you feel fucking bad." With that he turns, and runs.

Don't let go, don't let go, don't let go.

Don't cry.


	4. denial

Tommy is cold. The anger he'd try'd so hard to hold onto slipped from his tense fingers and left him with an aching hollowness, an empty pit, but at least he doesn't feel sad. He stumbles blindy through the snow. He'd gotten lost, too wrapped up in kicking thing and pacing in his anger, not paying enough attention, he'd gotten himself turned around, and everything looked the same.

He shivers, tucking stiff, cold fingers under his arms, He kind of wishes he hadn't thrown his- the jacket off in his anger. He takes a deep breath, watches it blow out in front of him in the cold air.

"Tommy?"

He tenses, he knows that voice by heart, no matter how raspy and almost echoey it sounds. He doesn't want to turn around, but he does. There stands a ghost, grey skin, ripped up chest, dead eyes, but sporting those ram ears and horns, it is, undoubtedly, Tubbo. Tommy's mouth feels dry. "What.."

"Hello!" The ghost bounds towards him, ears flicking. No, this is not fair, it's not fucking fair, Tommy is supposed to be moving on, despite how much he doesn't want to, how is he supposed to do that with a ghost who is definitely not his brother, at least not fully, hanging around. "I'm glad I found you! I was very lost, I woke up in this weird giant hole in the ground, there was pictures of your discs there! But anyways, I had no idea where I was, but now I'm with you!"

This is not fair.

Tommy has now idea how the ghost of his dead brother got from Dream's hellhole to here. "Uh.. Yeah." He isn't sure what to say, the sadness is back, taking hold of his heart and squeezing.

"Do you know how to get home?" The ghosts asks. The snow doesn't crunch under his feet.

"Which one?" Tommy asks, bitterly. This is not fair.

"L'Manburg, of course!" The thing wearing his best friends face says brightly.

"I.." This is Wilbur all over again, except worse. Wilbur had been spiraling, at that point he wasn't Wilbur anymore, he was a paranoid shell who sought to destroy what he loved most, so when Ghostbur came it wasn't as hard of a blow. Tubbo however, was still Tubbo when he died, and is being replaced by a shell. "We'll go back soon." And yet he can't break the news to that shell. "I'm lost too."

The ghosts face falls. "Oh." He says,and then lights back up again like a goddamn Christmas tree. "I guess that means we get to go on a little road trip adventure!"

Oh god.

Thankfully, he's saved from responding, or further thinking about how he feels about that by snow starting to fall from the sky. Soft almost sizzling sound filks the silence, and the ghost gasps, flinching and attempting to shy away from the frozen water that melts upon impact, to no avail. "Ow-" He whines, looking confused. "Wh- that hurts-"

Tommy sighs, wrapping a hand around an oddly solid arm. He doesn't question it, hasn't questioned it since Ghostbur. He drags the ghost under the trees mostly hidden from the snow. "Water'll make you melt, and snow is water."

"Oh."

Tommy sinks down to the ground. It seems like he's stuck here with the ghost for the time being. Fuck.

He isn't sure how long he sits there, listening to the endless rambling of a ghost, but, eventually; "Tommy? Tommy are you here?"

He stands quickly, brushing snow off himself. "Ranboo?" He steps forward, ordering the ghost to stay put, and calls for Ranboo again and searches.

They almost bump into each other. "Sorry!" The ender hybrid yelps, jumping back. "Sorry, sorry. I came after you shortly after you strormed off and didn't see any signs that you had been at the portal so.." He shoves the red jacket in Tommy's arms. "It's cold."

Tommy bedgrudgingly puts it on, because he's cold.

"Tommy! was that Ranboo?"

Ranboo's eyes go wide, he gives Tommy an odd, confused look at the voice coming from a little ways behind them, out of sight. Christ. "Um," Tommy shifts, sighing. "Just.. Just come with me." He grabs Ranboo's arm, and practically drags the taller to the tree he and the ghost had been huddled under. "He's.. like Ghostbur."

"Hi!!!" The ghost waves dramatically, a large smile on his face. "Ranboo! Hi! We're lost!"

Ranboo exhales sharply. "Oh boy. Um," "Can you help us get home?" The ghost continues, head tilting to the side as he speaks. the action is so much like Tubbo that it hurts, Tommy wants it all to go away. 

"Well, yes," Ranboo rubs the back of his neck. "I can definitely do that." He's shifting his weight awkwardly.

"Good!" The ghost beams, turning dancing, dead eyes on Tommy. "But won't the snow melt me, Tommy? How am I supposed to go back?" Tommy bites his lip. He could say he'd be back to get the ghost later and leave him behind.. 

"Oh, um," Ranboo slips off his puffy jacket, setting it in the snow and quickly jotting down something in his book, then unbuttons his suit, revealing the plain white undershirt beneath it. He lifts one side of the rather long suit. "Here," He steps closer. "Get under, this'll keep you safe." 

The ghost smiles, giving out a soft thanks and huddling under the ender

hybrids suit. He looks happy. "Okay, the portal is this way.." 

Tommy doesn't know what to do.

Which one?

/p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah this came out,, later than planned, my apologies. my anxiety is wack rn so upon seeing someone else do it i meshed 2 comforts together, the smp and undertale, and gave smp members undertale osts. theres 2 videos abt it up on my yt channel Ramweather if you would like to check it out, i would appreciate it a lot :]
> 
> anyways, heads up! from thursday there won't be updates for a bit as i will be unable to write,,,
> 
> but uh,, thanks for reading, hope u enjoyed this chapter :]!


	5. frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so!!!!!!!!!!!! quick heads up b4 this chapter revolves around discussing the abuse tubbo suffered under schlatt, and scars and such so!! if that triggers you or makes you uncomfy in any way i suggest just skipping it! if you'd like a summary of it just leave a comment!!

Wilbur Soot had hated JSchlatt for a long while, or well, more acurrately, since Schlatt came into his presidency, since he ruined the fragile peace they had, and day after day of being stuck with him for months that hatred has only continued to grow, but he's never felt it this strong until now.

The short time Tubbo's been with them there's been a very obvious tension between the two, plus the constant flinching at the mans voice, and Schlatt's harsh remarks. It pissed Wilbur of thoroughly, and he always made sure to snap something back in response.

But, overall it wasn't as bad as it could be.

Until Schlatt tries to put a cigarette out on Tubbo's hand.

Wilbur tugs the boy back into his chest, lips pulling back. "What the fuck?" He snarls as Tubbo turns and presses his face into the tallers chest. "What is wrong with you?"

Schlatt's eyebrow raises and he pushes himself to sit up straight, alcohol and still lit cigar in hand. "What?" He says, likes it's not a big deal. "He's used to it by now, yeah?"

Tubbo burrows further into his older brothers chest and gives no response.

Wilbur really, really wants to punch the bastard in the face, but prioritizes the well being of his little brother over that, for now, he makes himself promise he'll knock him one once Tubbo's alright. He flips off Schlatt and turns, pulling Tubbo into the corner furthest away from Schlatt as he can get them in this god forsaken train car.

"Hey," He says gently, pushing Tubbo to sit down and crouching in front of him, clasping small, calloused hands in his own. Was this really the man who excused Technoblade almost murdering the kid? He still held those scars in the Afterlife. "Was he telling the truth? Did he always do that shit to you?"

Tubbo bites his lip, averting his eternally watery gaze. "I.." He swallows, shifting, hands still held in Wilbur's own rest in his lap. "Well.. I-I mean.." It looks like he's forcing the words out, like they're tearing up his throat as he speaks and sticking to his tongue." I guess."

"It's a yes or no question, Tubster."

He sighs, pulling one hand out from Wilbur's and rolling up his sleeve, there, acumulated on the inside of his wrist and dotted in other areas, are cigarette burns. Or more acurrately, cigarette burn scars. Wilbur feels sick, recoiling slightly, but never letting go of Tubbo's other hand. This is his brother, his baby brother he sent back to the very man who hurt him to spy until he was almost killed for it. Wilbur has not been a good man in a long time.

"Tubbo.." He doesn't know what else to say, reaching over to gently place his free hand over them. "I'm sorry," His throat feels tight, his eyes sting. "Is there anything else?"

Tubbo shrugs lamely. "Yeah, probably more than I know about, I'm not very good medically, you know? Neither is Big Q.." He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck.

If vomiting was something that could be done in the Afterlife Wilbur would have done so already. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "I.. Tubbo.." Really, he's not sure what he's supposed to say here, so he let's go of Tubbo's hand and opens his arms.

Tubbo makes a soft whining sound in the back of his throat and pitches forward, burying himself in Wilbur and clutching tight to the front of his shirt, small tremors wracking his equally small body. Wilbur wraps his arms around the ram hybrid, who's more of a lamb than anything, and holds him tight, holds him close.

He wishes he had done this before, when Tubbo was stuck under Schlatt, instead of making him push through it, making him suffer. Wilbur doesn't think that, until now, he's hugged Tubbo since Pogtopia. Since the first war, actually. Tubbo was forced to grow up too fast. Wilbur has not been a good brother in a long time.

Less than a day with Tubbo, without countries and responsibilities and betrayals and he's turning into a mushy sap.

He isn't sure that he minds it.

And if Tubbo cries himself to sleep, that's between him and Wilbur.

Tubbo's grip loosens on his shirt, so he scoops the boy up and lays him down on the seats, brushing some messy hair out of his face.

Once he's done, a stands up straight, clenches his fists, and marches right up to Schlatt. He grabs the mans horn with one hand, and slams his other into his noise.

The whiskey bottle the man had held drops, thankfully, onto the seat behind him. His hove tipped hand comes up to cup his noise, eyes narrowing and Wilbur throws his head back. "What the fuck-" He hisses, and Wilbur is quick to slap a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up," He whispers, voice harsh. "Be quiet, or I swear to whatever god exists I'll kill you."

Schlatt throws his hand off, eyebrow raising. "Oh yeah? If you haven't already noticed, lover boy, I'm already fucking dead." He throws his arms out to punctuate himself. Despite that, he keeps his voice low, and Wilbur is glad, because he doesn't doubt Tubbo would have snapped awake, after everything he's been through he's a rather light sleeper.

"Yeah," Wilbur leans in close. "And I'll kill you again, as many times as it takes for you to get your sorry ass away from him, forever, if you don't fucking leave him alone." Cold furry is blooming in his chest. "The only reason I'm not kicking your ass right now is because he would wake up, and that's not something I want him to wake up to."

Schlatt's eyes are hard, but he's shrunk back slightly.

"So listen here, don't touch him, don't even fuckin look at him, alright, and then we won't have a problem, got it?"

Schlatt doesn't answer, but he averts his gaze, picking back up the bottle and taking a swig.

Satisfied for the time being, he backs up, turning back and sitting with Tubbo, lifting the boys head to rest in his lap.

Wilbur swears he's going to protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah hello how are you guys??? i,, had a breakdown whilst writing most of this so,, if any of that bled into this i apologise 
> 
> ummm idk there isnt much for me to say here aside from the fact that im thinking of changing my user to either RamIsntHere or RamIsAway, so,, if you like one more than the other please let me know im very indecisive
> 
> pls comment im desperate


	6. hesitance

In the nether they come acros Ghostbur, holding tight to blue dye, a small smile on pale lips. "Hello!" He calls loudly, hurrying over to the small group.

"Ghostbur!" The apparation of Tommy's best friend says, meeting the other ghost halfway as Tommy and Ranboo come a little slower. "Ghostbur. Hello." Tubbo is practically vibrating.

"Are you dead?" Ghostbur whispers, eyes wide.

Tubbo glances down at his chest. "Yes." He says grimly, but cracks a smile. Ranboo shifts, glancing breifly at Tommy, who's bouncing on the balls of his feet, staring straight ahead.

"Oh! How did you die?" Ghostbur leans in close, eyes sparkling with curiousity.

Tubbo's head tilts slightly. "I don't remember, I just remember it hurt a lot and Tommy was crying." He turns around to look at Tommy questioningly, who doesn't meet his gaze, but mutters out, "Dream killed 'im."

"Dream?" Ghostbur echoes. "But Dream is my friend?"

"No," Tommy sighs, tense. "He isn't."

Ghostbur presses pale lips into a thin line, looking thoughtful for a moment, before shrugging. "Okay." He says simply, and Ranboo knows that information isn't being stored away.

Tubbo shifts, bouncing on his heels. He looks thoughtful as well, dead gaze swimming. Ranboo wouldn't know how go feel if he had just found out how he died.

"Well," Ghostnbur says, almost dismisively. "We have to give you a ghost name! Like mine! Hm.. Tughost, or Ghostbo?"

The dead teen glances back at his friends. "I like them both,"He says simply. "What about you, Tommy, Ranboo?"

"Well.." Ranboo runs his tongue over his teeth. "Ghostbo, I think, Tughost is a little bit difficult to say." Tubbo nods enthusiastically, and turns his gaze on Tommy.

"Ghostbo." The youngest mutters. Tubbo nods, smiling brightly. "Ghostbo it is, then."

Ghostbur reaches out and takes the dead boys hand. "Come on then!" He says brightly. "Let's get out of here, it's hot." Ghostbo nods quickly.

"Weren't you heading this way for a reason?" Ranboo asks gently, midly confused. "Why were you out here?"

Ghostbur sends him a short glance. "I don't remember." He says, then bounds off the way he came, dragging the smaller ghost with him.

Tommy is uncharacteristically silent.

Ranboo turns to him, they're about out of earshot of the ghosts now, even Tubbo, who has better hearing than most of them. "Are you.. okay?" He asks hesitantly, taking the path at a slower pace than their dead companions are.

Tommy walks with him, eyes trained to the ground, kicking a stray piece of cobble. He shrugs lamely. Ranboo places a clawed hand on his shoulder.

Tommy's very obviously going through a lot, and Ranboo is doing his best with his meager comforting skills whilst also trying not to crumble under the weight of his own grief. Tubbo was his friend, a best friend, he'd say. Tubbo stuck by him no matter what, and now Tubbo is dead.

Tommy sags slightly. "This isn't fair," He whispers. "I.. He.." He swallows, hunching in on himself. "I didn't think he'd.. you know.." He makes a vauge gesture up ahead. "It's not him anymore."

Ranboo nods, slowly, then winces upon realizing Tommy doesn't see it. "Yeah," He says quickly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "I get what you mean.." He does, it's not quite Tubbo anymore, just a small fraction of him. It's weird, and Ranboo doesn't particularily like it himself. He knows it must be even harder for Tommy, of course, who grew up with Tubbo.

"I just.. It's.. I don't know." Tommy's shoulders are hunched almost up to his ears. He looks tired. "I don't know."

"That's okay," Ranboo is not built fot this. "You don't have to know, I get that it can be.. hard to express how you feel."

Tommy nods shortly, and Ranboo takes that as him doing something.. semi right.

"Come on, let's catch up to them before they get into trouble."

-

Quackity stands at the ruins of L'Manburg.

"Big Q!" Ghostbo crows, bounding forward, dragging along poor Ghostbur. Quackity turns quickly, eyes wide, duck wings puffing up, confusion spread across his face. "Tubbo?.." He says, almost hollowly. He looks tired as well.

"Hello Quackity!" Ghostbur waves as Ghostbo comes to an arupt stop, taking in the ruins.

"Q," Tommy and Ranboo come up slower. "Uh.. as you can see." Tommy gestures to Tubbo's ghostly form.

Quackity nods slowly, expression closing off. "So there's two of em now." His voice is tense, uncertain. He gives Ranboo a slightly odd look, and the hybrid winces. The duck hybrid had been throwing him those type of loiks ever since the destruction of the community house.

He remembers, well, the book remembers, after everything went down that day, Tubbo and Quackity talked together in hush whispers, glances thrown his way. Eventually, they slipped away, and all that could be heard was distinct, almost hysteric shouting.

He gets the feeling that Quackity isn't very fond of him.

Quackity spreads his arms out, and Tommy doesn't hesitate to jump into the hug. The duck hyrbids wings wrap around the teen as he holds him tightly, Tommy's face buried in his neck. It looks nice, Ranboo is slightly envious.

Theres a tug on his sleeve, and Ranboo jumps, whirling around to face the ghost of his best friend. "What happened here?" Ghostbo asks, big, wet tears brimming in his eyes.

Ranboo swallows around the lump in his throat, casting a glance at Quackity and Tommy. "Um.. Dream, Techno, and Phil blew it up." He breaths out uncertainly. Tubbo's face contorts in confusion, looking to Tommy, and then Ghostbur. 

"But.. Phil.." He steps back a little, shaking his head slightly. "That doesn't make any sense."

Ranboo chews his bottom lip, watches Ghostbur come up and take Ghostbo's hand again. "Come on," He says gently, warmly. "Let's go somewhere else, I can show you friend!" Ranboo makes a slightly confused noise at that, and Ghostbur looks up at him. "Sapnap found Friend and brought him to me!" He says brightly.

Ranboo feels a burst of warmth for Sapnap, poor Sapnap.

"Are you guys going to come with us?" Ghostbo asks softly.

Ranboo looks to Tommy and Quackity, still wrapped together. It seems like Quackity is speaking to him in hushed tones. "No," He says after a moment, after a pang of longing, almost. "No, we'll see you guys later, okay?"

They leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO SURPRISE IM NOT FUCKIN DEAD! im,, so sorry for how long this shit took i've been hit with pretty bad writers block and this chapter was a bore, but i dont want this fic to fall into oblivion like every other fic before it because i've only ever finished one. SO, i will be attempting to set an update schedule so i don't run myself ragged trying for every day. So,,, wednesdays? I'm thinkin weekly on wednesday. we'll try it out, see how it goes, and i'll change things if needed, because i've never tried to set an actual schedule before.
> 
> anyways, thank you so so much for reading & being patient with me. ily guys, see you next week :]


	7. protection

Both Quackity and Ranboo end up staying with Tommy for the night. The dirt shack Tommy calls home is not nice, and Quackity feels midly unsafe in it, like one wrong move could send the wobbly looking walls crumbling on top of them, but it's the first night since Tubbo died, so Quackity pushes through it.

Theres two beds pushed into the corner, the one against the wall is green with a ratty looking bee plush sitting atop, the one next to it is red.

"You still have the bed downstairs, right?" Ranboo mumers, hand flat against Tommy's back. The shorter teen fumbles with the green-splashed-with-red cloth on his wrist. He nods, once. "Okay," Ranboo breaths. "You'll know where I am, then, have a good night, Tommy." He doesn't look back at Quackity as he ambles down the stairs.

"Alright," Quackity claps his hands together as Tommy turns to face him, shoving down his own grief in order to help his friend. "How we doing this, T?"

Tommy glances at the bed that was so very obviously Tubbo's. He looks slighly panicked, shifting his weight as his gaze flickers between the green bed and Quackity. Obviously, Tommy does not want Quackity to sleep there, understandably so.

"Uh-" "I'll sleep on the floor." Quackity says, waving off Tommy's odd look. "Trust me my friend, I end up on the floor most nights anyways, Sapnap is hell to sleep with, and Karl isn't a whole lot better." Sapnap clings and pushes and whines in his sleep and Quackity ends up on the floor. Quackity sleeps with Sapnap and Karl because Sapnap is scared, and alone, and left behind. Karl is easy to sleep with, but putting emphasis on it seems better to do now.

Quackity will not be there for Sapnap tonight, which he feels bad about, but Sapnap has Karl and Tommy needs him.

"I.. if you're sure, big man." Tommy deflates slightly. "I'll go grab you some stuff to sleep with, give me a second." With that, he scurries down the stairs, leaving Quackity alone with his thoughts.

His eyes drift to the lone, scuffed up bee plush. Tubbo's bee. Quackity swallows around the lump in his throat, ignores the way his eyes sting, and pulls out his comm to message Karl.

 _ **Quackity:**_ you guys sure you'll be okay without me tonight?

 _ **Karl Jacobs:**_ yea Q dont worry about it! me and Sap'll be just fine for one night  
_**Karl Jacobs:**_ or more if Tommy needs it

 _ **Quackity:**_ let me know if anything goes badly, i'll be there in a heartbeat

 ** _Karl Jacobs:_** course Quack man, see you later :]

 _ **Quackity:**_ night karl, say goodnight to sap for me

 _ **Karl Jacobs:**_ for sure

Quackity clicks off his comm as Tommy comes back up the stairs, arms full of what looks like two blankets and a pillow. Quackity is quick to take the soft items from his arms and start getting settled on the floor next to Tommy's bed. He's still in his clothes, but so is Tommy, and Ranboo had been too, and he thinks it doesn't matter much for one night. Still, he shrugs off his over shirt, leaving him the in white tank top he wears underneath.

Tommy clambers into his bed, pulling the bee plush close. 

His fingers hesitate over his beanie, debating on if he should power through it and sleep with it on, uncomfortably, or take it off. He doesn't feel quite safe without it on around other people, he's only recently been taking it off around Sapnap and Karl. 

"You can take it off, big man." Tommy says from above him. He glances up at the teen, who isn't even looking at him. "I won't look, also it's dark so i wouldn't really be able to see, I don't have night vision or whatever like- like Tubbo and Ranboo n shit." His voice wobbles slightly. Quackity, slowly, pulls off the beanie and settles it next to him, where he won't roll over it, but it's close enough if he needs it.

Quackity shifts, pulling the blanket around his shoulders. "Wake me if you need anything." He says, eyes starting to drift closed already. Tommy gives a soft hum of acknowledgement in response.

-

Quackity wakes up to screaming. He's quick on his feet, snagging his beanie on the way up. He hears movement from somewhere below him, and assumes Ranboo woke as well. 

Tommy is sitting up, hunched over the bee plush he's holding onto in a death grip, sweating and shaking as short gasps leave him. 

Quackity is quick to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling on his beanie as he does so, worrying his bottom lip between smooth teeth. "Hey, hey, Tommy," He gently places his hand on Tommy's back, the touch barely there, and immedietly drops it when Tommy flinches in response. "Tommy, Tommy, do you know what's happening right now?"

Ranboo comes up the stairs, looking sleepy and confused, but alert, and makes a beeline towards them, dropping to the ground next to the bed, tucking long legs undearneath him in a way that looks midly uncomfortable. 

Tommy tucks the bee plush closer to his chest, a small sob leaving him. After a moment, he shakes his head.

"You're in your house, with me, I'm Quackity, and Ranboo." He says softly. Ranboo's kneeding at the bed sheets almost like a cat, eyes narrowed slightly, brows furrowed, he has an almost.. self depricating look in his eyes. Quackity pushes past that, he'll deal with that when he has the time.

Tommy's gaze flickers up to the duck hybrid. His eyes are foggy, not quite seeing.

"You're okay, whatever you saw isn't happening, alright? You're here with us, you're safe."

Tommy gives a heavy, shuddering breath, and scrambles into Quackity's chest, bee plush getting stuck between them, arms wrapping around him in a bone crushing hug. 

After a moment, Quackity returns the hug, much gentler, and lets his wings settle loosely around him, less he decide he needs to get out of the hug.

Tommy is crying, loudly, hands fisting Quackity's tank top. Quackity rubs the teens back, sending Ranboo a glance, who's watching them in concern, clawed hands digging into the sheets and matress. 

"You wanna talk about it?" Ranboo whispers out the question, inching closer, tails twitching against the floor, creating a soft thudding sound.

Tommy is quick to shake his head.

"Do you think you'll be able to go back to sleep?" 

Tommy shrugs. Quackity glances at Tubbo's bed, then gently guides the teen to floor, on the blankets he had been sleeping on. Ranboo seems quick to get the message, and gets up and scrambles down the stairs, reapearing moments later with a couple more blankets and pillows, setting them down and then pulling Tommy's own pillow and blanket down.

The teen holds the bee plush close to his chest, sniffling as he sits back and watches them spread out the blankets and get everything set up. They gently pull Tommy to lay down with them.

He's quick to cling to Quackity, seeming to relax slightly. Quackity is glad, because it hurts to see his younger friend in pain. He's glad he was able to calm him down, because he was only doing some of what he knew to do for Sapnap, and knows not the same things work for everyone.

Tommy falls asleep after not too long, and Ranboo is out not long after.

Quackity holds on as long as he can, but drifts off soon himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST A REMINDER: everything here is platonic!! friends can share beds and literally sleep together 
> 
> ummmm i forgot like 3 chapters ago Tommy's clothes were bloody so we're just gonna pretend he changed before ranboo talked 2 him abt phil n shit SJDNJEID im forgetful.
> 
> can you guys tell how much i like to add sapnap angst? if sapnap is in my fic i will find someway to add dashes of sap angst :]
> 
> aaaaanyways, hope u enjoyed this chapter, even though it was a tad bit of a filler and was originally supposed to be a wilbur tubbo chap [the next one will be, i promise]. see you guys next week :]!

**Author's Note:**

> um,, hello. this was supposed to be a one-shot but its,, its not IDAGBADIK idk what to say here aside from thanks for reading and i hope you stick around :]
> 
> spare comments?


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